Author Archives: A Year in the Life of PTSD

lost friends

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You’ve had a hard day of therapy, so you take yourself to the grocery store for a distraction. It’s usually a good choice. However, today you run into two former friends.

It’s obviously awkward for everyone. They don’t try to hide the Deer-in-the-Headlights look on their face. You say hello. They say hello back with a vacant distant look. You shuffle on as quickly as you can so that everyone can stop feeling awkward.

Afterwards, a part of you hopes for a text or an email from one of them, but, alas, there is none. You finally realize that the friendship is really over.

You drive home, cry a little, and then once you pull into your apartment complex you get out of car and immediately go for a brisk walk. The frozen grocery items can wait while you walk! You turn up the Glee playlist on your iPhone because you need to get the self-defeating thoughts out of your head. You replay “Defying Gravity” a few times, and even “Gives You Hell,” but you feel only mildly better.

The PTSD was too much for them, and a part of you understands. It’s true that they triggered you inadvertently a few months ago, and it was made worse later by one of them. It was The Episode That Made It Worse that was the real breaking point. You realize you’re talking in riddles here, but you can’t possibly relive it again.

You’ll never forget that horrid Winter Dance where you and your partner were on the verge of splitsville. “Billie Jean” started playing, and, for lack of anything else to do, you went on the dance floor to dance by yourself to that horrid song. This short, spunky woman then starts dancing next to you, and says, “Hi, I’m Faith! Doesn’t this suck?” Yes, the dance did suck, and that was the start of your friendship.

You just have to accept that they are gone.

TW: Floaty free-for-all

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Mega ginormous therapy day was had by the lot of us today. We did not like it one bit, not a sliver, not a crumb of like.

It’s weird in life how one seemingly disconnected thing can lead to one thing and then another, and before you know it you can draw the connection between these things. I’m getting ahead of myself, let me explain …

On the long drive to Doc’s office my head started shaking, and it felt a bit … involuntary. I know it’s strange to say that, but that’s how it felt. It felt like I was vigorously shaking my head no, but I had no idea why. The only thing I could surmise was that one of the peeps did not want to go see Doc today.

So, I get in to see Doc, and convey all this to him, and he agrees that is likely the case. It turns out that one of the little peeps did not want to come back because last time when Doc was setting me up for neurofeedback I had a memory come back to me as he was putting the electrodes on my head. I started remembering my mother detangling my hair in a painful manner. I think this memory was triggered because Doc was touching my head while I was a little peep. Anyhow, my mother decided to have my hair cut short, like a boy after this particular detangling because she was tired of dealing with it. My hair was cut so short I looked like Huckleberry Finn in a dress. I was beyond mortified.

To add to the mortification, Easter was upon us very soon after this hair hacking job. I had an awesome baby blue dress that looked like a boy decided to wear a dress to Easter Mass. I was mad, and embarrassed to be seen with the hack job on my head.

Right after Mass my idiotic stepfather had the entire family gather on the lawn in front of the church for a photo. The dork even brought his camera. Who brings a camera to Easter Mass? As we were gathering for the picture I grasped my hands in front of me. My stepfather started taking pictures of us, and my mother shouted out at me that I needed to stop holding my hands that way because it looked like I was touching myself.

Once I conveyed this to Doc I was floaty and out of it. Since then I’ve been grappling with feelings of despair and ideation.

If there’s more to remember, I don’t want it. Don’t want to hear it, don’t want to know it.

Why I try not to switch

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The Indomitable Bourbon from Crazy in the Coconut asked me today why I try not to switch. It’s a very good question, especially since I mistakenly assumed that all of us with DID tried not to switch. I also had the mistaken assumption that we all lost time. This is one of the many reasons that I love the blogging community. I learn so much from you guys everyday.

I’m not sure if I conveyed the following story here, but here goes anyhow: The first clue I had re: my DID came a couple of years ago. I reconnected with Mingo, an old high school friend on facebook. He asked me why I changed in high school and became so gruff with a don’t-mess-with-me attitude. I laughed because that’s not me at all. I thought he might be mistaken in thinking that he was talking about me. Then he mentioned that I wore camouflage pants all the time along with a pink beret. Well, then I knew he could not possibly be talking about me. I’m quite the girly girl. I wear mostly dresses, and I would never ever dream of wearing camouflage pants! My inherent sense of appropriateness also would never allow me to wear such pants, especially since I’ve never been in the military.

Mingo insisted that he has a very good memory, and that he was sure he was talking about me. I told him we would settle this once and for all, and I emailed my sister, and asked her to confirm that Mingo was out of mind. Her reply was unexpected. She replied immediately, and said that I wore camouflage pants, and not only had a pink beret, but a red one as well. I was absolutely flabbergasted because I have no memory of any of this. I still don’t. I’ve tried and tried to conjure up these memories, but they are not there.

I asked my sister why she did not try to talk some sense into me ,and she said that she tried. Apparently, according to her, we had huge arguments about my attire where I called her a “snob.”

Mingo also asked me if I remember how we became friends, and I have no memory of how we became friends. All I have is a feeling that he is safe and kind. He then conveyed the story of how we became friends, and it made me sad because there is no such memory in my brain that I can fish out.

I also tend to lose time when I switch. That’s the biggest reason I try to avoid switching. I’ve found journal entries in different handwriting after I’ve lost time. Scares the heebies out of me!

Even the innocuous things scare me like discovering shows I’ve recorded on my DVR have been watched when I have no memory of watching those shows, or discovering that my Nook has been read without my knowledge.

I try not to switch because it scares me that I do things without remembering.